


Mark My Words

by also_ryatt (TideNightWalker)



Series: YouTube Dump [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, How Do I Tag, Kinda, Other, Pretty sure Nina's a psyhic, Sean is a lonely bus goer, Very sure, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TideNightWalker/pseuds/also_ryatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soaked to the bone,</p>
<p>You will go on.</p>
<p>Mark my words,</p>
<p>Little solider boy.</p>
<p>[Inspired by "Lipstick On Your Tombstone" by VioletHellFire]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark My Words

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lipstick on Your Tombstone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859246) by [VioletHellfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHellfire/pseuds/VioletHellfire). 



> My spin on the next chapter to come of this beautiful fic, after chapter 14. 
> 
> You do not require background knowledge on the story, but you should go read Violet's fic anyway, because it is sooooo gooood!!!
> 
> Enjoy, lovelies!

Sean had no idea where he was going, but it was good to be able to be in the warmer interior of the bus. Not too many people; he should be fine.

Sean sits across from a girl who's blasting music from her headphones, and staring and poking (with a stylus) at a tablet. Sean frowns, and then catches a glimpse of artwork. He scoots over to tap the girl on her shoulder.

She jumps a bit, then smiles nervously at Sean, pausing her music and putting her headphones around her neck. "I'm sorry..." She says sheepishly. "Was my music too loud? I can turn it down if it was..."

"No, no." Sean replied. "I was just wondering... I saw a peek of your art. I was wondering if I could see it?"

The girl raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Oh... Uh... Sure!" She turns the screen to Sean.

At the top, it's a man, with the heels of his hands digging into his eyes as tears drip down. These tears turn from a trickle to a torrent, continuing onto a woman, drinking a beer, while spilling some from her mouth. The beer mixes with the tears, and the next picture down startles Sean.

It's him.

Albeit, a drawing, but oh well.

The teary beer splashes his green poof as his eyes look up, lifeless, and blood drips from a knife in his neck. Green and red mix with the teary beer, and they all fall onto a hunched shadow of a man, trickling down onto a clear figure of a sobbing child.

Around it, the girl has written a poem:

_Mark my words;_

_Tears will rain_

_On your father's regime_

_Your mother; sad, angry, alone,_

_Bottoms of liquor bottles is what she calls home._

_Mark my words;_

_A friend lost today,_

_As your world turns to gray._

_Mark my words;_

_These will pour down,_

_Drenching your skin._

_Soaked to the bone,_

_You will go on,_

_Mark my words,_

_Little soldier boy._

Sean is left speechless.

"It's unfinished, and it could be better, but..." The girl shrugs. "So? Do you like it?" Sean nods wordlessly. "I got the inspiration when I was listening to my parents watch the news when I heard about a man who had been murdered in his sleep, right by his friend." She sighs. "I feel so sorry for the poor guy that got left behind. I would be a mess if one of my close friends ever died."

Sean finally regains his speech function. "That's... That's really beautiful...uh..."

"Nina." The girl finishes. "And you?"

"Jay." Sean replies.

Nina smiles. "I like your accent, Jay. New York, Scottish, Irish, or British?"

Sean blinks. "Huh?"

Nina giggles. "Your accent, silly. What is it? New York, Scottish, Irish, or British?"

"Oh! New York."

Nina grins. She leans really close. "Did you know I'm going to college for a master's degree in psychology? I'm basically like Sherlock."

Sean blinks. "OK, so what am I?"

Nina smirks. "Say 'thirty three.'"

"Thirty three." Sean replies, rolling his eyes behind his glasses.

"Irish." Nina replies, leaning back.

Sean nods. "Hmm... So, what's your poem and drawing about?"

"Well, sometimes problems are too much for just one person to carry on their own. They start to build and build until they crush you. You can't let your problems consume you."

Sean thinks about this. He lost track of time until Nina yanks the wire (letting the bus driver know that her stop is next) and says, "Well, this is my stop. You awake?"

Sean nods.

"Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for liking my art." The bus stops, and Sean lets Nina pass by.

She stops, and grins. "Good luck. Take my advice to heart, Sean." Then, she hops off the bus, never to be seen again.

Only when the bus starts moving again does he realize:

She called him Sean.


End file.
